Thank Hell and High Water for Moriarty
by TheDullYellowEye
Summary: John muses on the advantages of having Moriarty around. SHJW slash if you put your goggles on.


_Word Count: 1318_

_Seriously? I don't have a clue. John muses on the advantages of having Moriarty around. Slash if you put your goggles on. No beta, so forgive the mistakes._

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><p><strong>Thank Hell and High Water for Moriarty<strong>

John would never confess this to anyone, least of all Sherlock, but he'd never been more grateful to a criminal than he was towards Jim Moriarty. He didn't like the chap, not by a long shot, but he wasn't too fussed about whether he was caught or not.

If someone had said that to John just a month prior he probably would have taken them in for a CAT scan to check for brain damage. He hadn't realised quite what a relief it would be for Sherlock to never be bored. There were still wild rooftop chases and all-night vigils and the occasional kidnapping by Mycroft for a pot of tea and a natter about their favourite 'sociopath', of course. But the last of the recreational drugs had been discretely binned without any sign of their returning and the smiley face made of gunshot holes had yet to be given a mate.

The skull had returned, complete with one of Mrs Hudson's tea cosies as a hat, but John couldn't complain too much because the head in the fridge was gone and the microwave no long needed to be regularly cleaned of eyeball juice. Not that the microwave had been regularly cleaned _before_, but now it didn't need to be.

Which is not to say that Sherlock wasn't still totally insufferable. The man had a way of digging under just about anybody's skin with next to no effort. Lestrade had once put forward the theory that Sherlock didn't mean to irritate everyone, that it was something he did accidentally. John had shared this idea with Mycroft the next time he'd been kidnapped and the two of them had had a little giggle about the Detective Inspector's blindsided exasperation where Sherlock was concerned.

The point was that the microwave did still need to be cleaned of eyeball juice every once in a while, various human body parts did still show up in unusual places (although there had been no repeat of the decapitated head… yet) and Sherlock still stole John's laptop and phone. All of it just didn't happen quite as much as it used to. Although Sherlock was going through a lot more nicotine patches than he ever had before. Mycroft had told John that that was more of a 'phase' thing than linked directly to Moriarty, so John chose to ignore that little fact as best he could.

And all of this because Sherlock was rarely - if ever - bored nowadays. Thanks, almost entirely, to Moriarty. Also a little to John himself, who considered himself very good at filling in the blank spots now that he'd had a bit of practice. Sarah hadn't been best pleased, but after the whole Chinese circus debacle they'd never really gone on another date so she hadn't been too upset either.

It was utterly absurd, the Game that Sherlock and Moriarty played. And, yes, it did deserve a capital letter. Even just for the sheer ludicrousness of the situation. Because the Game now had rules. Like little boys learning how to play Monopoly and half making up the rules as they went along. For example, for every person Moriarty directly killed (either himself or had one of his assassins do it) Sherlock got a 'safe player'. Someone that Moriarty wasn't allowed to kill, maim or torture.

He was still allowed to kidnap though. Which was rather fun, really. Or John thought so anyway. Because he, naturally, had been the first person Sherlock had 'saved'. And in retaliation for not thinking of an abduction clause to the rule, Moriarty had done exactly that. Which meant that Sherlock and John had both had a whale of a time for a full four hours. Sherlock because it was a brand new puzzle to solve without the threat of someone actually dying this time (and thus no police interference). John because it turned out that he was a better shot than every single one of Moriarty's henchmen participating in that particular scheme and had won himself £200 for his efforts.

He had actually been disappointed when Sherlock had turned up because he hadn't had a chance to compare his abilities to Moriarty's himself. But as soon as the consulting detective had shown up the two of them had been back to behaving like stags in rutting season and John had waved a cheery goodbye to the henchmen and then dragged Sherlock out of there as quickly as possible. After all, the guns _were_ real and Sherlock and Moriarty were more than a little obsessed with one another.

Every once in a while John considered feeling jealous of Moriarty. The ability to possess Sherlock's complete attention was something that John knew Moriarty could do as effortlessly as Sherlock insulted people and was something that John had to work rather hard at. But then Sherlock would go and do something that would shake that jealousy and John would go back to just being grateful for what talent he did possess.

Like when Moriarty had killed a second person and Sherlock explained the whole 'safe person' rule to him and the fact that he didn't have any particular leanings as to who the next should be. When John had suggested Mycroft without even pausing to think about it (mostly so that he wouldn't have to think about the absurdity of such a request) _Sherlock_ had become jealous. He'd accused John of liking his older brother more than him, and then said that John wasn't allowed to be kidnapped by him again.

In hindsight laughing at him probably hadn't been the best move. It had taken some convincing for Sherlock to accept the truth of his still being John's favourite and more still to allow the kidnappings to continue. ("Really, Sherlock, if Moriarty's allowed to abduct me, then Mycroft should be too!") They weren't even really kidnappings any more. It was of a fortnightly chinwag on the onerous task of putting up with Sherlock Holmes for another two weeks. Not much involuntary about it, but Sherlock didn't need to know that.

Mrs Hudson had been very understanding. Too much so, even. The number of mysterious plates of biscuits left lying about their living room increased, which was good because it meant that John actually got to eat some before they were subjected to Sherlock's peculiarities. Mind you, nothing could convince her that they still needed two bedrooms.

"You don't need to be so shy, Doctor! I know what you boys get up to, and I know that you're a good influence on him. Sherlock needed someone like you to settle down his nerves."

John rather thought that it was Mrs Hudson's own nerves that had needed the most settling down as most of the time Sherlock didn't seem to actually own any. But if he was being entirely honest, he was focussing on that part of the sentence so as to avoid the bit about what she thought they might be getting up to. Sex - of any sort - and little old ladies just didn't mix. Not in his mind, and certainly not when he himself was involved, at any rate.

Eventually Moriarty would have to be caught. It just wouldn't _do_ to have a criminal such as him running loose about London. But until the police stopped beating around the bush and specifically told Sherlock to not only catch, but also to _bring to the police station _the 'bastard who did this' it wasn't going to happen. John quite liked Lestrade, he'd even warmed up to Donavan (Anderson was a lost cause, but that went without saying) but they simply weren't up to Moriarty and Sherlock's standards.

So, until the day that Moriarty got caught, or died, or did something too horrendous for Sherlock to do anything but one of the first two options, John was quite happy to sit back and enjoy the (relative) peace and quiet.

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><p><em>AN: Err... I plead the fifth? Anyway, if there's a story or xover you'd like to see done, I'm open for prompts. Just check my profile for more info. This <em>isn't _my first fanfic, so feel no mercy - leave whatever comments you like (or, in other words, review? Pretty please?)_

_Love, Yellow  
>xx<em>


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